There's something odd about you
by AssassinOfRome
Summary: This is what would happen if The Sherlock Crew went to Hogwarts!No slash.Teen!Characters but is separate from Songbird.Rated T for room.I don't own Harry Potter or Sherlock though I wish I did.Needs a better name.Review with your ideas.Now with BAMF Molly
1. Humble beginnings

It was Sherlock's 11th birthday when he got the letter. Birthdays didn't matter to Sherlock or Mycroft or even their parents. They were just things that happened. Just a normal day really. Sherlock just got some stuff that he either didn't want at all or needed so badly he had already found, used it and probably broken it.

"Sherlock! Post!" cried his mother from the kitchen where she was making breakfast for Mycroft and Sherlock's father. She knew even before he slid down the bannister that he didn't want any and she hoped that maybe he would get something to eat later. Fat Chance. Sherlock was already engrossed by the postman's present. Head cocked, he listened. Was that a flurry of wings or his imagination? Dismissing the fact causually , he sifted through the bills and postcards looking eagerly for a letter from his Indian penpal, Tonga. He found nothing from overseas but some emerald green ink on a brownish background caught his eye. He grabbed the strange envelope and stared at it.

_To Master Sherlock Holmes _(he frowned at 'Master'. His father was called Siger and there was no other males residing at their house except Mycroft)

_The eaves of the house_

_64 Durham Lane _

_Horsham _

_Sussex_

Several theories whirled around inside his head. Someone was stalking him. How could they possibly know where he slept. Well, saying slept would be a lie 90% of the time. Sherlock's room was mainly for work and experimentation. Not for relaxation or sleep. He shuddered at the word. He hated sleeping. Too many disturbing dreams about snakes talking to him. Shaking his head, he walked into the kitchen still staring at the post. Even though his eyes were averted he still managed to duck under his mother's food-filled plates as she depostited the breakfast to their owner.

"What do you want to do today then, so..." his father trailed off seeing the seal on the back of the envelope.

"Who's that from?" asked his mother. Sherlock shrugged and handed the letter to her for inspection.

"Don't play dumb, Anna. You know bloody well where that came from."

His mother gasped as she flipped the envelope over and saw the burgandy wax stamp.

"Oh my God. Sherlock..." His mother handed the letter back to her son with a look of awe on her face. Carefully, he ran his fingernail under the seal and flipped the envelope open. Two stained piece of folded parchment sat inside. Slowly he pulled one out, unfolded it and read the words of emerald ink.

_ HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, Grand Sorc., Chf Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards.)_

_Dear Mr Holmes, _

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equimpent. Term begins on 1st September. We await you owl no later than 31st July. _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmisteress._

Suprise overwhelmed Sherlock. He pulled out the second piece of parchement.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Uniform_

_**First years will require:**_

_1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2. One pointed hat (black) for daywear_

_3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_Set books_

_**All students should have a copy of each of the following:**_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk _

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

_Other Equipment:_

_1 wand _

_1 cauldron (pewter standard size 2) _

_1 set glass or cyrstal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_**Students may bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.**_

_**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS**_

Upon reading those letters, Sherlock knew his life would never, ever be the same.


	2. Friends at First Sight

**Thanks for reading! It's AssassinOfRome here, just to say hi. There is a major time skip in this chapter as this is now set on the train to Hogwarts. Just so you know, this is unbeta read because my spell and grammar check is broken. Sorry if this is putting people off reading and reviewing. Enjoy! Now with more John Watson. AOR**

Sherlock sat staring out of the window in the empty compartment, watching the scarlet train pull out of Platform 9 and 3/4. He had watched some other potential wizards walking through the barrier and followed them. He'd been confused then thrilled when he saw the Hogwarts Express and jumped on without a second thought. Everything he knew or understood was being left behind him and he didn't have any regret. He had searched himself for a sign that he cared. But there was nothing. He was glad to leave; a new life was panning out in front of him. His thoughts were broken by someone at the slide doors. A boy in a beige jumper and fluffy blond hair stood at the door.

"Can I sit here? Everywhere is full."

Sherlock nodded and cocked his head slightly to the left. John sat down opposite him.

"When's your father's funeral?"

The stranger's brown eyes went wide in surprise.

"How did you know about my dad?"

Sherlock sighed and smiled at his companion.

"You have an upset persona. Also your clothes are slightly creased, indicating that you don't care about your image. Your hair is unwashed and not brushed, supporting my previous theory. Several tear-stained tissues are in your pocket. So something traumatic, a death, has happened quite recently. You're not the sort of person to hold on to something for a while. Except for that trunk. It's not yours, is it? Too scuffed and dirty. This is your first year; your mother would never let you take this. Unless it was special. You had a bond with it. Or its owner. Your father's trunk. You keep it with you as a memory. You had a bond with your father much more than your brother." Sherlock paused for a second scanning the stranger with his silver eyes. " Harry. That's your brother's name. Maybe he didn't like Clara. But he was most certainly a wizard. There's a stamp from Hogwarts on your case. You, like me, have never been to Hogwarts so you didn't put it on there. It must have come from when your father came here. That's all I got, James Watson. What did I get wrong?"

"Err... My name's not James, its John."

"James, John. What's the difference?" Sherlock scoffed.

"Quite a lot actually. Also Harry's short for Harriet."

"Sister." Sherlock hissed. "There's always something."

"Excuse me but how did you know all that stuff about me? Are you a stalker?"

It was Sherlock's turn to look surprised. He laughed.

"Not in the slightest. I despise watching people. I didn't know; I saw. You just confirmed it."

John looked confused but didn't say anything.

"So..." he mumbled to break the heavy awkward silence."What house do you think you'll be in?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I didn't even know there were houses. What are they?"

"Oh. Well, there's Gryffindor for the brave, Hufflepuff for the hardworking, Ravenclaw for the clever and Slytherin for the ambitious. They all have their own animal symbol and colors. Gryffindor is a golden lion on a red background. Hufflepuff's a black and yellow badger. Ravenclaw's got a bronze eagle with blue. And I think Slytherin is a silver and green snake. You don't want to be a Slytherin."

"Why?" Sherlock was now curious.

"All Slytherins are evil. Never been a good one."

"I bet I'm one. Everyone says I'm evil.

John stared at him. "You're not evil. You're just...different. You'll be a Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. I can tell."

Sherlock grinned. "I'll keep that in mind."

"What's your name, by the way? You never said."

"I'm Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

"Nice to meet you. Is that seriously your name?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yup."

"You Muggle-born then?" When Sherlock raised his eyebrows, John rephrased his question. "Are your parents magical?"

Shaking his head, Sherlock looked dejected. "Nope. It came as a surprise. What's your wand made of?" he replied, rapidly changing the subject.

"Oh this? Hazel and unicorn hair. 11 inches. Yours?

"Holly and Phoenix. 12.5 inches. Apparently longer than most."

"Wow. You're the same as Harry Potter, world's most famous wizard. Olivander told me. I know him. Yours is slightly shorter."

"Oh. Is that good?"

"I suppose. Hey, is that the food cart? I'm gonna go get something. Do you want anything?"

"Nah. I'm good."

"Come on. Try some wizard food. Your Muggle stuff is crap."

"Alright then." Sherlock grinned.


	3. Mortal Enemies

**Hey! It's AssassinOfRome here, saying hi! I wrote this whilst watching the Last Samurai with my brother and nan. This was written in Notepad on my nan's mini computer which doesn't have spell or grammar check so this may not be perfect. Hope you don't mind. Read, review and enjoy! AOR**

John returned several minutes later with some strange brightly coloured packages under his arm.  
Before Sherlock could deduce their contents, John threw a strange silver package in his general direction. Sherlock caught it flawlessly with his left hand. John smiled.

"Good reaction time. You'd make a great Seeker."

"Seeker?" Sherlock questioned,offering to chuck the packet back at John, who raised a hand and shook his head.

"Y'know. Quidditch."

Sherlock shook his head solemly.

"Nope. Never heard of it."

John's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"You've never heard of Quidditch?"

"No." Sherlock was confused."I'm Muggleborn, remember? We don't play Quidditch. Is it like football?"

"Nowhere near."

"Oh Thank God." Sherlock muttered. John laughed.

"You're funny."

"Am I?" Sherlock asked. No-one had never told him he was funny. Most people stayed away from him.  
His deductions scared them and they insulted him. Rumours spread like wildfire wherever he went. Other children's parents called him a 'pychopath' thanks to his strange and unsafe experiments. Neighbours called him a 'nusiance' and 'a terror'. Teachers, who were paid to be kind to children,  
called him 'highly funcionting'. But most the time they added 'sociopath' on the end. Even they didn't deny that there was something odd about the youngest Holmes boy. He wasn't like his parents, who were powerful and used their social connections to get ahead in life. He was more like his olderbrother Mycroft but he had friends whereas Sherlock had no-one. Suddenly two people of about Sherlock's age entered their compartment. One was a girl with black hair and a sharp face. The other was a boy with a face like a horse. They both wore long black robes and had wands clutched in their hands.

"Looky what we have here!" called the girl. "A couple more first years to torment."

"Shove off Sally." John turned away, unimpressed.

"Ooh. Someone upset Johnny-Wonny kins."

"He said Piss Off." Sherlock stood to face the girl.

"Oh look. Johnny kins has got himself a what is this badmouthed boy called?" the boy replied.

"The name's Sherlock Holmes. Is your ex-girlfriend on the other side of the train? Because you shouldn't be around your floosy near her should you? She's still very upset about your cheating ways."

"Wha...what? How did you know about Michelle?"

"You have a lipstick mark on your cheek that is obviously from you friend over there." Sherlock gestured to Sally who used a scowl to replace the look of interest that had been on her face several seconds before. But you have another name written on your forearm in red pen. It's the word Michelle intwinned with the name Mike Anderson. I deduced that you are Mike and that you cheated on Michelle with Sally. You've just broken up with your long time girlfriend. Of course she's upset and sitting on the opposite side of the train as you. Now I told you, piss off." Sherlock growled the last sentence, clearly angry.

"Come on Mike," Sally lay a hand on Mike's arm (the one without the writing on). "Let's leave the freaks alone." She and Anderson exited the carridge, leaving Sherlock and John in peace. John stared at Sherlock, impressed.

"Is that all true?"

"Every word." Sherlock's silver eyes shone. "Who were those people?"

"Mike Anderson and Sally Donavon. AKA The biggest douchebags ever to attend Hogwarts. Speaking of Hogwarts, we're almost there. Better put your robes on."

Sherlock nodded, grabbing his trunk, pulling out his robes and slipping slipping his red polo shirt off over his head. He could feel John's eyes on him and turned to face him.

"What?"

"It just...you're so skinny."

Sherlock looked down and, mildly shocked, saw his ribs sticking out slightly. Ok; slightly was an understatment.

"Err. Yeah. I guess I am. I don't really see the point of eating when I don't need to."

"Don't need to or don't want to?"

"I was born prematurely." John didn't seem to believe him. "What? I was!"

"Okay..."

"I don't have an eating disorder! At least not anymore..." Sherlock slipped his robes on over his head. John took the hint and stayed silent. But he spoke again when he saw Sherlock's shoes.

"Hey. What's with the naked ladies and panthers on your shoes?"

"Oh these? These are my Sailor Jerry cream Converses. They're limited addition."

"Who's Sailor Jerry?"

"Tatooist."

"Cool."

"Yeah."

The train shuddered to halt. Sherlock could see the station outside of his window. Illuminated by the light of the evening sky, was the sillouhete of a grand castle with turrets and spires.

"We're here."

**By the way, Sherlock's shoes and shirt belong to me and I am wearing them right now. Just watched Terminator: How it should have ended. FREAKING AWESOME! AOR**


	4. Platform to Hogwarts

Sherlock was quietly dumbfounded. He had never even imagined there could be so many people in one space, let alone magical people. Pupils were chatting with their friends, sparks flew from wands and various coloured ties glinted in the pale light of the moon. People nudged him which made him shudder. He disliked contact with people he didn't know and even when it was friends or family, he didn't relish at the thought. John tapped his shoulder, causing him to jump.

"Are you ok? You look a little scared."

"I am flabbergasticated."

"You're what?"

"I'm so emotional I'm making up words. Techniaclly, it means I'm nervous and excited and confused because most people call me a sociopath and they don't have emotions."

"People call you a sociopath?"

"Yeah. I don't really have any friends. People tend to think I'm mental unstable because I show no remose when my actions have disatrious consquences."

"Do you always use big words like that?"

"Most of the time, yes. What do we do know?"

"We need to find Hagrid."

"Who's he? And how do we know who he is?"

There was a great shout that echoed over the platform.

"FIRST YEARS! OVER 'ERE FIRST YEARS!" These shouts came from a man with long straggley hair and beetle black eyes that towered over everyone around. He reminded Sherlock of a black bear that he had seen at the zoo once. Shaking his hair, Sherlock tried to clear the thought from his head. He didn't like thinking about that time at the zoo. It had been like a nightmare come to life. Snakes seemed to whisper in his ears telling him things they had seen over the years. Terrible things. He tailed John over to the giant.

"Sherlock,this is Hagrid. Hagrid, this is Sherlock Holmes."

"Well, it's nice ter meet yah, Sherlock. I'm Hagrid as Johnny hear jus' said."

"You know each other personaly?" Sherlock's eyes went wide.

"Yeah. Hagrid's always been a friend of the Watson family. We branched off from the Weasley's at one point."

"That you did, Johnny. But I can't say I've ever heard of the Holmes'."

"Well... I'm kind of...er..."

"He's a Muggleborn." John voiced Sherlock's answer.

"Oh." Hagrid nodded.

"Hey Sally, look! Freak's a Mudblood!"

Everyone's reaction to Anderson's outburst was different. Sally shrieked and doubled over with laughter. Sherlock,although not fully understanding the term, gripped his arms instinctivly and bowed his head trying to hide his blushes. He wanted to curl up and die. This caused complete strangers turned to look at Sherlock, some laughing cruelly with Sally, others with eyes narrowed, expressions angry. One girl with long blond hair with a red clip in fought her way through the crowd to the front. She walked up to Sally and slapped her hard across the cheek. She turned back to Sherlock and placed a hand on his shoulder. Her robe sleeve slipped down to reveal a gold and red bangle around her Sherlock didn't shudder; this was someone he could trust. The girl turned to Anderson and spat in his face. John gasped, hand against his mouth as if someone had uttered a terrible curse. He stepped back and placed his hand on Sherlock's vacant shoulder. Hagrid gave a low growl.

"Don' you dare use that word in fron' of me. Do you hear me?" He placed his great paws on Anderson's shoulders and shook him lightly.

"Yes sir." Anderson whimpered. Hagrid let him go and he turned back to Sally muttering about 'violence' and 'he would tell his father about him'. Hagrid turned to the crowd.

"Is that clear?" he roared. "No-one is to use that term in fron' of me!"

Everyone nodded and went back to their conversations. By now a large group of children that looked about Sherlock and John's age had gathered around Hagrid, who seemed a lot calmer. John and the girl both removed their hands from Sherlock's shoulders.

"Alright. Everyone follow me to the boats. We'll use those to get to the castle." Hagrid set off and all the first years trailed after him. Sherlock, who was quite athletic when it suited him, hung back to stay with John and the girl. They were joined by a chubby boy with brown hair and glasses who was carrying a toad. He seemed to know the girl and they chatted compainonably.

"You were really brave just then, Molly. I would never have done that."

"Yes you would, Mike. If he stole Angus, you'd be livid."

"Fair point. Hey John. Wazzup?"

"Not much. How was your summer?"

"Alright. How's your friend? Is he the Muggleborn Hagrid was talking about?"

"Yep. Sherlock this is Molly Hooper and Mike Stamford."

Sherlock smiled and stuck out his hand for Mike to shake. They shook warmly like they had known each other for years. Molly put her hand out but Sherlock knelt down and kissed it lightly. Molly grinned and blushed lightly.

"Are you stuck in the 19th century? No-one does that anymore. Not that I'm complaining." she added quickly. Sherlock grinned and stood up. He and Molly shook hands.

" 'Ere are the boats. Get in. Four to each one." Hargid commanded. Sherlock, John, Molly and Mike all clambered into the boat nearest. Sherlock sat next to John and opposite Molly. Mike sat next to her. Before Sherlock could even think about the lack of oars, the boats slipped over the glassy surface of the lake. Sherlock noticed that Molly gripped the side of the boat tightly.

"You can't swim."

"Excuse me?"

"You can't swim can you Molly? You're gripping the boat; you don't want to fall in and drown. Also you have a history of magic in your family. I know that by your bracelet. Colours of Gryffindor, isn't it? Given to you by someone older. It's weathered. So family heirloom. You treasure it but you want to keep it close. You use your sleeve to cover it up. But the only mystery about you, Miss Hooper, is where is your cat? It's fur is all over your robes."

Molly glanced at her robes then at Sherlock then at John. The boat landed on the bank with a slight bump.

"Everyone off."

The children, lead by Hagrid slowly made their way up the winding path to the castle. Hagrid knocked on the oak door three times and suddenly a witch with grey hair wrapped up in a bun opened the door. Her expression, which before had been sour, turned into a smile which lit up her whole face.

"I'm Professer McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House. I hope to see a few of you in my house but first we must get you sorted. Follow me." she began to walk up the corridor. She turned back to face the children. " Oh and welcome to Hogwarts."


	5. The Sorting

The Great Hall was easily the biggest room Sherlock had ever been in through-out his entire life. The celieng stretched up above his head, stars twinkling. Somehow, he thought, they have harnessed the look of the night sky and enchanted it onto the top of the room. This dazzled him and every other first year. But what dazzled them more was the sheer amount of people. There were for rows of tables, each with a different banner above them. These tables were almost the length of the entire hall, leaving only a small space at both ends. At the north end, there was another table, placed parallel to the student tables. A golden table cloth covered the table itself and seated along it were, who Sherlock assumed where the teachers. Hagrid sat at the very end, trying to talk politely to another teacher who just wasn't listening. The teacher in question was had sallow skin, a long hooked nose like an eagle's beak and long greasy black hair and staring at Sherlock through his dark hole-like eyes with a look of amusement and hatred written on his face. Sherlock's gaze slipped up the table. A fat witch with flyaway hair was chatting to a dwarf like creature who was sat on three thick books so her could reach the table. The witch he recongised as McGonnagal sat next to a wizard with robes of deep purple and a long white beard and hair. He stared at Sherlock through his half-moon spectcles, trying to assess his with his light blue eyes. Sherlock, also being able to do this, assessed right back. Random messages came into his head from the wizard and the old man jumped, tapping McGonnagal on the shoulder and gesturing to Sherlock. He grinned and winked cheekily at the teachers, non-verbally telling them that their secrets were safe with him, and turned to John.

"Who is that guy?"

"That's Dumbledore, Headmaster. Now shush. We're about to get Sorted."

"Sorted?"

"Yes. It's were they sort you into your house. Look, McGonnagal's setting up the hat." And so she was. She had placed a tattered old hat on a stool and out of nowhere, a scroll appeared in her hands.

"Anderson, Michael." Anderson went and sat on the stool, placing the hat on his head. Several seconds later, it shouted 'SLYTHERIN!' for all to hear. The table second from the left cheered loudly, welcoming their new member. Things went quickly from that point onward. Donavon joined Anderson in Slytherin, a boy called Dimmock was Ravenclaw and Molly became a Gryffindor, as she had desired. She grinned at Sherlock from her table, eyes shining.

"Holmes, Sherlock."

Sherlock closed his eyes, took a deep breath and sat on the stool with the hat over his eyes. A voice whispered in his ear.

"Oh. A tricky one. Very clever. Ravenclaw would enjoy you. But very rude. Slytherin's calling. Quite loyal when it suits you but I don't think Hufflepuff's would agree. Clever, brave and brash. I think Slytherin would suit you best." It was about to cry the house name when Sherlock interrupted.

"No." There was a gasp from a crowd he couldn't see. No-one had ever questioned the sorting hat before.

"What?"

"No. I'm not going to be a Slytherin."

"I don't really think you have much choice."

"I'm clever, brave and brash apparently. Isn't that Gryffindor?"

The hat paused as if thinking.

"Yes. I suppose it is. Very well then. GRYFFINDOR!"

Sherlock grinned. But as he slipped the hat of his curls, it uttered one final sentence.

"Slytherin is the right place for you. Don't forget that."

"I'm Muggleborn. I don't think I ever will."

Sherlock slipped down the ailse. People were muttering. He had beaten the hat. No-one had ever done that before. And he was only a Muggleborn, no magical family in him. He sat next to Molly and watched the rest of the Sorting. Stamford became Hufflepuff and John was teh last person on the list.

"Watson, John."

John, obviously very nervous, sat on the stool. The hat shouted Gryffindor as soon as it touched his hair. Sherlock and Molly appluaded loudly as John came to sit by them. Dumbledore stood up.

"I only have a few words before you can dig in. And those are Flibble, Gumplink, Sugar, Weed."

Sherlock bit his lip, trying not to laugh. Obviously wizards knew nothing about modern drugs as John and Molly stared at his strangely. Suddenly the table was groaning with food. John and Molly began filling up their plates but Sherlock wasn't so sure. His stomach suddenly started twisting unpleasantly as the gravity of the hat's final words hit him. John's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Sherlock? Hello? There's food here. Which you tend to eat. Now." John looked up at him from his bowl of butterscotch flavoured Angel's Delight.

"Not hungry."

"Are you alright? You seem a little...distant." Molly placed her hand over Sherlock's but several seconds later placed it on his forehead, dislodging his curls. "Holy crap, you're hot!" Molly cried, startled. Sherlock tore his gaze away from the man with the long greasy hair, who was glaring at him. Molly removed her hand slowly, blue eyes glancing between Sherlock and the teacher.

"That's odd. Mighty odd."

"What?" John and Sherlock asked in usion

"You've cooled down now. But you were on fire when you were looking at Snape. Did you feel anything else?"

"I felt a little nauseous but I was just nervous after the hat. Who's Snape?"

"Snape's the potions master. He's really evil. Are you sure you're OK? You're a little pale. Well paler." John was getting concerned for his new friend. He didn't want Sherlock to be ill on his first night at Hogwarts; that would be horrible for everyone.

Sherlock nodded and picked at some Eton Mess. He bit into the meringue and grinned.

"You were right, John." he smiled,changing the subject rapidly. "Muggle food does taste like crap."

**AssassinOfRome here saying hi to everyone and anyone who's reading this. If, at any point in the story, any of the characters get OOC, sorry. I'm trying to keep them in character whilst making them magical teens so it's not easy. After this chapter, I'll finally get to the classes. I have a mini plot bunny for the potions lesson that may involve explosions and the hospital wing. Also Defence against the Dark Arts has a little plot snake (another hint; I've been dropping them for quite a while now and they're pretty obvious) in it. Bored! AOR**


	6. Muggle Literature

Soon after the feast had been eaten, Dumbledore stood up and gave his yearly speech. "Friends, Roman, Countrymen." He paused dramatically. The hall was silent. Dumbledore was staring at Sherlock in a strange way, as if he expected him to do something. This was slightly unnerving seeing as Sherlock had a passion for all things Shakespearian and could complete the quote with ease. After a mental battle with himself, he raised his voice.

"Lend me your ears, I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him." Everyone turned to look at him. Many students were whispering to their neighbours. One distinctively rang out above the others.

"What the hell is he on about?" The voice's proud owner was one Mike Anderson. He was scratching his forehead in confusion. Most of the Slytherins first years were.

"I hope that by 'he' you mean Mr Holmes here. Holmes and myself were simply quoting William Shakespeare. Though undoubtedly a genius, there are still many things about Shakespeare that we do not know. What we do know is that The Bard did in fact sit in the very hall you are sitting in now. The Master Playwright was actually a wizard who decided to hide his secret and portray himself as a Muggle. Ten points to Gryffindor for knowledge of Muggle History and Literature."

Sherlock was confused. Dumbledore had given him house points for knowing about Shakespeare. When he quoted Shakespeare, most people he knew called him a nerd. Dumbledore continued with his speech but Sherlock stopped paying attention. Instead he let his gaze drift over to Snape and again the feeling of illness threatened to consume him.

…..

John was incredibly impressed about Sherlock's knowledge and quizzed him in the dorm as he stuck up his poster of The Ballycastle Bats Quidditch Team

"Of course I know about Shakespeare but to be able to quote him without thinking that's just...wow!"

Sherlock lay on his bed, dressed in a grey T-shirt and pyjama bottoms and wearing a long silk dressing gown, which reached the floor when he stood. The dressing gown was blue and although John managed to change it red with his wand to match Gryffindor, it stayed blue. Red didn't suit Sherlock; it made him look paler than normal.

"John?"

"Yes Sherlock."

"What does Mudblood mean?"

"Well," John turned to face his friend. "It's a really awful name to call a Muggleborn. People who come from all wizard families use it; they call themselves pureblood. It's stupid really. Everyone knows us wizards would have died out we hadn't started marrying muggles. Don't take any notice of Anderson and Donavon. They're pricks." Sherlock smiled.

"What've we got tomorrow?"

John glanced at his timetable, which was right next to his poster.

"Herbology, Flying Practise, Potions. After lunch we've got Charms, Transfiguration then last lesson is Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Fun, fun, fun." Sherlock replied sarcastically. Slowly, he drifted of to sleep to the sound of John's chuckles.

**And that's where I'm going to leave it now. I know this is pretty short but the next chapter will be Before Lunch and the chapter after will be After Lunch so they'll be quite long. I'm willing to take character names for Sherlock and John's year. Just tell me what houses they're in, what they're called and their subject strengths and weaknesses. I also need a name for the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. It can't be anyone from the Harry Potter series because this is set before Harry Potter went to Hogwarts. Any suggestions welcome. AOR **


	7. Morning Mistakes

As soon as Sherlock and John sat down at the Gryffindor Table for breakfast they were joined by Molly.

"Hey guys! Sleep well?"

"Yeah Molly. You?"

"Alright. Sherlock?"

Sherlock didn't answer. John nudged him in the ribs. The teen jumped, startled.

"Huh?"

"Are you alright? You've barely eaten anything."

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Sherlock answered "Yeah. I'm fine. Just a bit nervous, I guess."

"Nervous?" John cried. "I thought you would be excited."

"I am! I'm just not feeling 100%, ok? I'm going to the library."

He stormed out of the hall, leaving John and Molly confused.

"Does he even know where the library is?"

...

As it turned out Sherlock didn't know where the library was and regretted not asking. He was always a little cranky in the morning after dreams filled with disturbing images of snakes. He was surprised John hadn't heard him talking in his sleep; a habit Mycroft always insisted he had. Mycroft even said he hissed once but Sherlock shook it off as Mycroft being half asleep. This wouldn't be unusual because Mycroft spent more time asleep than awake. He glanced around, eyes darting over the walls.

"Lost, are we?"

Sherlock turned around to face the speaker. The boy was almost double Sherlock height and had a low voice. A shiny gold and red prefect's badge flashed on the chest of his black robes, next to his tie of the same colors.

"Err. Yes. Do you know where the library is?"

"Yes. It's by Charms. This is the Transfiguration corridor. But you can't go now. It's almost first lesson. I suggest you go now, save you being late."

"Oh. OK. Is Herbology near here?"

"Yes just downstairs. I'm guessing you're a first year?"

"You'd be guessing right. Sherlock Holmes." He stuck out his hand like he had seen his father do so many times before and grinned. "You are?"

"Lestrade. Gabriel Lestrade." Lestrade reached out and shook the younger boy's hand. "Now off you go. Professor Sprout'll do her nut if you're late."

"See you around, Lestrade." Sherlock called as he sprinted down the stairs, almost colliding with a Hufflepuff girl. He apologized and jumped the final few steps.

...

"Good Morning Class and welcome to your first Herbology lesson!" The plump witch with the flyaway hair greeted her class as they walked through the greenhouse doors. Every inch of the greenhouse was decorated with strange and exotic plants of all shapes sizes, and colors. It made the first years gasp in amazement.

"I have laid out various bits of equipment that you will be using over the course of the year. Today I want you to test them out in groups. Off you go!" She clapped her hands ands the class dispersed. Sherlock went in a group with John, Molly and a fellow Gryffindor with sandy blond hair similar to John's and greeny-grey eyes.

"Hello! I'm Molly Hooper."

The boy glanced at Molly. "I know. Gregory House. But please call me Greg."

"Ok, Greg. I'm John. It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, John. And you are?" Greg paused.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Of course you are." He grinned and Sherlock shot him a smile.

...

The class went faster than anyone thought it would and soon they filed out of the greenhouse to the Quidditch field, groaning for they had to fly with Slytherins. Two lines of broomsticks were placed in the middle of the field. Sherlock chose one near the end with Greg on his left and John on his right. Molly stood on the other side of John. Anderson and Donavon decided to stand opposite.

"I always heard that Mud blo-Muggle borns are terrible flyers." Anderson sneered in a loud voice. Sherlock's cheeks began to burn and surprisingly, so did Greg's.

"Sherlock." House whispered.

"Yeah."

"Do you know how to make a broomstick move?"

"Nope."

"Just put your hand over it and say 'Up'." Greg's eyes were twinkling with malice. Sherlock grinned, raising his hand over Anderson's broom. He had rather unwisely chosen to stand with one foot on each side of the broom.

"Up."

Anderson's broom hit him in his manhood. The class exploded into laughter. Anderson writhed on the floor in agony.

"Who did that?" Madame Hooch roared. The class stopped laughing.

"It was me." Greg owned up.

"5 points from Gryffindor. Now stand up Anderson. You'll be fine." She went to pick up Anderson, who was still on the floor.

"Why did you do that?" Sherlock turned to Greg as soon as Madame Hooch was out of earshot.

"Because it was my idea. You just enforced it."

"Oh." Sherlock replied. "Thanks." He placed his legs on each side of the broom and kicked hard off the floor like Madame Hooch instructed. Suddenly he was flying, the wind blowing through his hair. It felt wonderful; as if he was leaving the world behind. Madame Hooch blew her whistle and although disagreeing, landed.

"Wow. You're pretty good." Molly congratulated him.

"Thanks!" Sherlock smiled.

"What have we got next?" John asked. Greg whipped out his timetable.

"Potions... with the Slytherins." He groaned tucking it back into his pocket.

"Great." Sherlock sighed.

...

They began to wander to the dungeons, chatting all the way. Greg spoke of his dreams of being a doctor and John seconded it, smiling. Before they knew it, they were grabbing their books out of their bags and setting up their scales on the desk. Sherlock sat next to John and Molly sat opposite them with Greg. Suddenly, there was a rustling sound as Professor Snape's robes swished across the dungeon floor. Sherlock's stomach twisted violently and he almost vomited into his cauldron. Molly, John and Greg looked concern at their friend's strange behavior.

"Today class," Snape droned. "We will be making an elixir create Floo powder. Turn to page 43 and follow the instructions." The class groaned and pulled out their books and flipped the pages. Sherlock began eagerly adding random ingredients into his cauldron. John peered over his shoulder.

"Sherlock... what are you doing?"

Sherlock looked up and smiled. "It's an experiment." Professor Snape walked passed. The cauldron exploded. Quickly, Sherlock covered his face with his hands. He felt strange. Removing his hands, he blinked at them. They were bigger than he remembered them. Everyone was staring at him, open mouthed.

"What?" He asked. Anderson and Sally laughed, doubling over. All the Slytherins joined in. A smile flickered over Snape's thin lips, making Sherlock feel awful. He shivered.

"Sherlock..." Greg raised his eyebrows. "You're six foot tall." Sherlock looked down and swayed slightly. He blinked. He really was 6 foot. That alone was completely unnerving.

"Five points from Gryffindor." Snape said coldly. "Class dismissed." The class began to file out.

"Hey! Turn him back!" Molly snapped at Snape.

"Ten points. And anyway, Miss Hooper, I can't. I don't know how he did it. Any side affects will _probably_ wear off in a few days. "Snape smiled again and Sherlock really did double over. Snape left the corridor. Sherlock straightened shakily. He felt a lot better now the potions master was gone.

"Guess you're going to have to live with being tall." Greg laughed, watching his friend stumble. Sherlock glared at him, a feat made ten times as scary with his additional height. Greg jumped back slightly.

"Actually," Sherlock paused to look down at them. "I think I'm going to like it."

**Hey Guys! AOR here with a very very late chapter. Oops! This chapter is dedicated to Moonhawk64 who reminded me to write this. AOR over and out!**

**AOR**


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